The Darkest Hours
by SwordMaidenArya
Summary: Aly has run away from Alanna. It takes George eight months to find her. What took him so long? Why didn't he come for her right away? Why was Tortall in so much danger? Find out what actually happened in the time Aly was away. First story! PLEASE R&R!
1. 1 Alanna

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Alanna

It had been a pretty long day. Alanna had just gotten back from a six day ride with Daine, out on an emergency call saying that stormwings were destroying Trebond. It had turned out to be a false alarm, sent out by raiders as a way to divert attention. Alanna was exhausted, and she couldn't wait to sleep in her own bed and not the uncomfortable bedrolls they had brought on the road. She went into her study and found a letter waiting on her desk.

_This came yesterday for you. It looked official so I left it. I know how cranky you get when I open your letters. Love Always, George. _George's clumsy scrawl was written on a piece of her stationary next to the letter.

Alanna couldn't help but smile. Her husband did know her too well. She was interested to see that the message was sealed with the royal symbol, but she did not recognize the writing. Why hadn't Jon written it?

Alanna broke the seal on the letter and opened it to find the same new handwriting. The words on the paper confused her just as much as the handwriting, however. Intent on the letter, she did not hear George open the door and come to stand behind her.

She couldn't believe it. More like she just didn't want to. Alanna sat frozen at her desk, the paper trembling in her hands. First, her daughter ran away to Goddess knows where—and now this! Alanna didn't think that she could take any more.

As she put her head down, she felt comforting, strong arms surround her. Her husband, Sir George, Baron of Pirates Swoop, could always sense when she was in pain. He had always been very protective, even though he knew she could hold her own.

"What happened?" George asked softly in her ear, pulling her closer.

"Jonathon," she choked. "He's—he's dieing." She only whispered the last few words, tears starting to fall down her face.

"Then go to him," George answered as calmly as possible. He could feel her tense and start to argue. "Go," he said firmly. "I can take care of Aly. He needs you."

"But Aly—" Alanna protested. She couldn't just leave her daughter to her own fate.

George kissed her gently on the cheek. "I will protect her. She'll be safe. You know she can take care of herself." With that, George slipped off quietly, descending the stairs to leave her alone with her thoughts.

But she couldn't wrap her mind around anything. How could this have happened? Jonathon's enemies had been long dead, thanks to her and her loyal friends. At least, she had thought so. Maybe Jonathon's enemies were dead. But were hers?

Just then there was a knock at the door. As she ran down the stairs of Pirates Swoop, George swung the door open to reveal a worn down man in tattered clothing with fear showing wild in his wide emerald eyes. His eyes locked with hers, and, recognizing the blazing violet he had been told to watch for, the man delivered his message.

"I—I was told to come find you. If y—you are Alanna, th—that is. I wasn't told that I would be chased here though." His eyes calmed and grew brilliant green. Alanna had seen that look before—a look of anger and ferocity—but on a different face. "They're after you," he continued his tone dark and quiet. "They want to kill you. I can see it in their eyes. Even now, they are plotting."

At that moment all other thoughts left her—she knew the answer to her question. There were enemies out there. Ones she had never even considered. They were dangerous. And they were after her.

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	2. 2 Morin

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Morin

Morin sat quietly, observing this strange lady and her easily angered husband. He had learned to respond to all questions quickly, or there was a knife at his throat faster than he could blink. He had come with a strange message—that much he knew.

"My father was a friend of yours, many years ago. He said, in his last letter to me that I was to help you whenever I was needed. I was to protect you with my life. He's gone now, wandering in strange and distant lands, but I promised. And the time has come. You are in danger now more than ever. Though, I'm not sure what any of us can do." The last sentence had been his own, and he had changed some of the words, but, other than that, this was the exact message he had been given to deliver so many years ago.

As Alanna sat in wonder at who her strange visitor might be, Morin surprised her again. "I also have a letter for you. It's old and a bit dirty, but I'm pretty sure it's still legible. Father always had the neatest handwriting." With that, he handed over the letter, which Alanna took eagerly.

As she set eyes on the tight and rigid handwriting, Alanna's heart caught in her chest. Reading the letter, she understood more and more of what had happened. What had gone on the day he left her. She looked up into the strange pale gray eyes and saw exactly what she was looking for.

When tears started to fall down her cheeks, Morin immediately knew that she had discovered something new. What, he did not know. That, he was still in the dark about, along with many things that were happening around him. Why him? Why this lady? And the most important question: who exactly were these enemies that he was protecting her from?

Alanna couldn't handle it anymore. She knew if she stayed in this room, staring at that face that she would break down into hysterics. George would be mad enough that she was upset. She couldn't let him see her cry. With elegance and strength, an odd combination, Alanna swept out of the room, unable to be around this too familiar stranger.

At once, Morin felt his back press against the cold stone wall—a knife at his throat for the fourth time tonight. "What did it say?" George growled angrily. He loved Alanna and refused to see her hurt.

"I don't honestly know," admitted Morin. "He never told me." Morin sighed with relief as the pressure let up at his throat. "Please, Sir. I never meant to hurt her. Neither did my father."

"Who was your father?" George asked, still angry.

"Again, I am sorry to say I don't know. He never wanted me to know—he said so the one time I met him. He mostly just listened to me. He was a very good listener. Though he had very little patience for mistakes or stupidity." _Not unlike some other people I know,_ he thought, not unkindly.

"What did he do?" George asked, trying to remain polite in case Alanna was listening. She always hated when he lost his temper—which had been happening quite often in the three days that Aly had been gone.

"He was a soldier of some kind. In his last letter to me, he sad that he was leaving—for good—into the desert. He said that he had been called to duty far beyond the reaches of the normal maps. He also said he wouldn't be able to write to me again. This world must be a bit larger than I dared imagine."

Just then, there was a knock at the door, sending George to the study window. "Yes, that it is," George whispered absentmindedly. "Though, I do wish it were a bit bigger sometimes, or Corus a little farther away."

George turned back to Morin and shrugged. "But we can't always get what we want, so I'll just have to let our new visitors in too, wont I?" With that he left the room to answer the door, still visibly tense and angry.

Morin stood alone in the cold study now, waiting to see what might happen next. At the same time, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

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	3. 3 George

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

George

George's thoughts were reeling. He had no idea who this boy could be. And boy wasn't the right word for him either; he was an adult—there was no doubt about that, but he couldn't be more than forty. Was there someone else that Alanna had never told him about? No, they were married before her thirtieth birthday. Before him was Liam, and before both of them was Jon. Morin would have been only a child at that point.

All this passed through George's head as he went down the stairs to meet their new guest. The crest on the shields of the latest party was that of Goldenlake. As George opened the door, he expected to find the big burly knight, Raoul, waiting for him. When he opened the door, the party consisted of only small knights and even smaller squires.

"Bad news from the capital," their leader told George, who was still standing in shock in the doorway. "Sir Raoul is missing; we think he has been kidnapped by rebels of the Own, and the King is helplessly ill. He calls desperately for his Champion. We are here to deliver the message only. And then I must return to Fief Goldenlake to mass the armies for the search. We must gather all in the King's Own."

The news hit George as a shock. He had always been ill-tempered when it came to Raoul, because it was he who urged Alanna to depart into the desert when she needed to get away. Raoul had been the reason that he had been without his love for almost a year. But missing? Kidnapped? That he had never wished on the overly friendly knight.

This would wound Alanna more deeply then she would ever let on; George knew that, but he couldn't keep this news from her. Fortunately, she was upstairs, and she would be too distracted to have heard the door. "Come in," George said quietly. "We have already gotten news of the King's illness. We also have word of other enemies that seem to be thoroughly infiltrating our command. And now this. I truly am sorry to hear of it."

The knight nodded to George as they walked up the stairs. "I have heard such tales as well. I am Sir Barrish of Goldenlake, by the way, hence the reason that it is my duty to bear you this sad news. These days, I do not know what to believe, but most of it seems to be coming true, unfortunately."

George nodded solemnly in agreement. Things had become confusing and perilous for everyone in the past few months. No streets were safe—and apparently, neither were the very soldiers who defended them.

George showed everyone to the study, where Morin sat waiting. Seeing the sigil of Goldenlake, Morin quickly and gracefully jumped to his feet, bowing slightly to the knights.

After introductions, George turned to Barrish. "I am sorry to be so forward, but there is no time for sympathies on any accounts. You must get back to Goldenlake, and I fear that we must have much to do before the night is up." With that, he looked at Morin. "We have news that Sir Raoul is missing, possibly ambushed by his own troops, our King is dieing, and our enemies lurk in the shadows. Alanna and I ride for Corus in the morning, and you may choose to go wherever you are needed."

"We will leave now, for we must return to our Lord before dark," said Barrish. "I wish you only the best. Safe riding. May the Goddess watch over us all." Quietly, Sir Barrish bowed out of his room, and the thunder of hooves could soon be heard above the sound of the rain that was just beginning to fall.

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	4. 4 Alanna

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Alanna

Alanna escaped quietly to her room. As soon as the door closed behind her she fell to the floor sobbing. Her heart had broken and healed so many times before, that it shouldn't have hurt as much now, after all these years, but she couldn't stop the pain. Finally, the tears stopped and her breathing calmed.

But she couldn't go back out there. How could she face them yet? Morin was new here; he wouldn't disturb her. Even George knew better than to interrogate her yet. Morin had no idea; he had never been told. He knew that Alanna had recognized him at last. But he still did not recognize himself. He had lived for—it would be 36years now—without ever knowing. His father, one of the greatest men of all time had wandered off without him, not saying where he was going—or who he was, leaving Morin in the dark.

There wasn't time to consider telling him the story. As soon as George heard, he would understand, but Morin was a different story. It would take time to explain, time they did not have. That was her answer. She couldn't tell him—not until after the danger had passed.

Alanna sat quietly in her room staring out her window. She heard the horses, and the knock on the door, but George could get that. She couldn't face them—not yet. From the tales that she had already heard, she knew they would e leaving soon, so she busied herself packing. She skipped over all of her fancy dresses—there were some at the palace, and she doubted she would be needing them for this visit.

What about after this visit? Would she ever go back to se Jon? Would he even be there? She was worried about him—that, she did know. But she couldn't believe that he was actually dieing. She realized then that this is what scared her the most. She might be too late, and all would end without even getting to say goodbye.

It was a foolish thought, she knew. But it lingered in her mind nevertheless. Quickly, Alanna sat at her desk and began writing furiously. They would not get to Corus for over a day, but her letter would have to go before them. She would address it to Thayet; that would ensure its safety.

_Dearest Thayet, _

_I am sorry to hear of Jon's illness. I will arrive in _

_Corus shortly. George and I are leaving sometime_

_before tomorrow night. Also, we are bringing a _

_rather interesting visitor with us. You will _

_appreciate him, but I must tell you in person who _

_he is, for fear that this might get into the wrong _

_hands. Be assured, I will do what I can for Jon. _

_He is my best friend; and I will do my best to save _

_him. But there are other matters to be discussed as_

_well. We have more disturbing news, just like _

_everything that has come in within the past month. _

_I pray that this reaches you safely. Give my love to _

_Jon. Goddess watch over us all._

_Sincerely,_

_Alanna_

Once she had finished the letter, Alanna went quietly down stairs and gave orders to her most trusted stable boy to deliver this as quickly as possible directly to the Queen. As she was leaving the stables, his quiet voice stopped her.

"My Lady, I know you wish to be left alone, but there were messengers from Goldenlake here. Lord Raoul was not with them. I think something may have happened. I know I'm just a servant, but, if you please My Lady, it would be well to see what has happened." The stable boy bowed his head knowing that he had been too outright with her. Alanna made all of the staff at Pirate's Swoop feel comfortable, but he had gone too far this time.

Alanna stood frozen in the stables. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Raoul? Not here? Something must have happened. It was then that she noticed Karyl's (Car-il) crestfallen face. "Thank you for the information," she said, laughing lightly to brighten his mood. "I do still wonder how you get all the information that you do."

Karyl smiled and shook his head. "It's just something that every servant is good at."

Alanna shook her head and laughed as she walked away. As Karyl faded out of sight, the smile fell from her face. She needed to talk with George to hear what had happened. Alanna silently climbed the stairs back to her room and slipped in before shutting the door behind her. George would be up soon to make sure she was alright, and he would explain everything.

As she turned to light the candles by her bedside, Alanna let out a gasp. Sitting on her bed, tears welling up in his eyes, was Morin.

"Who was he?" he choked. "Who was my father?"

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	5. 5 Jonathon

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Jonathon

Black clouds swirled around in Jon's head, trying to keep him oblivious to what was going on. He could feel the strain on his body trying to keep him awake. He could also feel the magic working through his head, pulling him deeper into oblivion.

He could see himself, as if looking through another person's eyes. He looked normal, almost peaceful, except for the beads of sweat on his forehead from fighting the fever.

From the outside, it seemed like any ordinary sickness. That was the point. It would be treated as an ordinary fever, and soon, he would die. The mage who cast this sickness must have been very strong indeed.

But Alanna was coming. Thayet had told him that, though she didn't know he could hear. She had received a letter saying Alanna would be there tomorrow. One more day. He just had to fight for one more day.

Jon heard Thayet gasp beside him, and he realized that his eyes had fluttered open. How—he didn't know—but now he couldn't find the strength to close them again. Soon, it was more than he could handle. His eyes began burning with an intense and uncomfortable pain.

All of a sudden, the pain subsided. His eyes were closed, and Thayet's cool hand still rested on his face. "Thank you," he breathed, knowing that she would be more worried about him now.

Thayet kissed him gently. "Get well," she said, just as quietly. "I can't bear to see you like this. And you know you'll have hell to pay with Alanna if you so much as think about it."

Jonathon laughed lightly. She was right. The minute he woke up, Alanna would be on him about how ignorant he was to have let this happen. Suddenly, he was sure that he would be alright. Alanna had saved him many times in the past, and she could again. She wasn't the strongest mage in Tortall, but she had the stubbornness of a mule. She would win, no matter what it took.

With Alanna and Thayet on his mind, Jon found it easier to deal with the pain. It wasn't as hard to concentrate when he dreamed of Thayet. He began picturing her walking down the aisle the day she swore to love him or seeing her in his arms as they slept one night. This kept him awake and out of pain.

Thayet suddenly moved beside him. "Jon, are you alright?" she whispered. "You haven't moved in a long time." Jon could tell that she was worried, wondering if he was conscious.

"I'm fine, Thayet," Jonathon laughed sleepily. "I was just trying to forget the pain is all. And, for a little while, it worked." He smiled faintly, knowing that she was the reason he had forgotten his illness.

"Then sleep," Thayet whispered in his ear. And he did. But he dreamed too. And this was no dream of Thayet.

_He was in a dark room lit only by an eerie green glow from the corner. As there was nothing else that he could do, Jon proceeded cautiously towards the light. As he came closer, he realized that this wasn't a light. It was the glow of two intense green eyes glowing with determination and hatred. But the eyes weren't focused on him. They were staring at something far in the distance, unseen by anyone else. Then the eyes noticed him and locked with is own. He could feel the fear emanating from the man now, but Jon was the one who had to fear. He closed his eyes trying to forget the face and opened them again to his room. _

Thayet's face was panicked again.

Jon did his best to smile, for her sake. "I'm fine," he told her. When she still looked concerned, he continued, "Don't worry. Really. Everyone gets bad dreams sometimes right?"

This made her laugh. "We used to have to sing Kally to sleep for hours after one of hers. The night that she dreamed about the stormwings attacking Daine and Numair was especially bad. We just couldn't convince her that everything was going to be alright."

The memory made Jon laugh too. "I remember that," he said weakly. In truth, all he could remember right now was the glowing green eyes of the mysterious man in the dream. Soon, he fell into sleep again, being taken over by the black magic clouds that continued to swirl in his mind. His last thought was the he wouldn't wake up again until he was healed.

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	6. 6 Karyl

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Karyl

Karyl had ridden all night to get the letter to Queen Thayet. He was almost as exhausted as Cold Blood, his most trusted horse. Cold Blood didn't run for anyone else. He was stubborn and feisty, but he was sweet as an angel in Karyl's capable hands.

There was a reason for the horse's name. He was a retired warhorse, who had done just as much damage as his rider. He had "killed in cold blood" almost every attacker that had gotten within five feet of his rider—Numair Salmalin.

Numair and Daine had fought side by side in the aftermath of the immortals war. They had been ambushed by a flock of stormwings and Cold Blood had fought just as bravely as the two humans.

That's how he had gotten his name, of course. And, in that same battle, he had injured his leg, retiring him from war forever. Now, he was Karyl's horse, and Karyl had never loved anything more.

He was exhausted now. And so was Cold Blood. They both needed a rest. Queen Thayet had given him an excellent room in the palace, in honor of his brave ride. She had also supplied him wit ha seven course meal that still sat heavily in his stomach, making him waddle slightly as he walked.

Sir Wekker had given him a bit of sweet summer wine as well, making his thoughts swirl unclearly in his head. He wished now that he had been a bit more careful with the drink. Usually, he could hold his liquor, but this was something new entirely.

Karyl thought that he heard something behind him, but he stopped and heard nothing so he continued. The wine and food had truly gotten to him by the time he departed for his own rooms. Alanna fed him well and gave him a very comfortable room in which to stay, but nothing like this.

As Karyl walked to his rooms, he passed the palace practice courts. He stopped for a minute, just looking at where his lady must have trained, disguised as a boy, fighting for Tortall.

To him, she was a hero. He was a street rat, so the palace had never opened itself to him. But he had heard the stories of what the pages went through. It was said that many noble boys left or got killed trying to succeed. But her, a soft childish girl, beat them all and became no ordinary knight.

Karyl kept up his lazy pace across the practice courts, and soon, he decided to head for the stables to make sure Cold Blood was being taken care of well enough. Cold Blood could be stubborn sometimes, and pp tended to mistreat him for that. Again, Karyl got lost in his own thoughts about the past days adventures.

Just then, something was slipped over his head and the world went blade. He could feel something pressing against the base of his throat. "Scream and you die, servant," a cold, harsh voice muttered in his ear. "You will come with me. You will tell me everything you know. And, maybe, you will live."

Karyl had no idea where he was being taken. It was away from the stable; he could tell that much. And this he only knew because he could hear Cold Blood neighing furiously, but slipping farther and farther away, unable to help his master.

"Greyl," (Grail) muttered his captor. "Go stab that horse before he gives us away."

"NO!! " Karyl screamed, and with that, he felt something collide with the back of his head, and the entire world went black.

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	7. 7 Nikki

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Nikki (Nick-y)

Nikki scrambled down the ladder as fast as he could. He was just a stable hand he knew, and a small one at that, but he worked well with most horses. They tended to respond to him well.

They should. After all, Stefan, the most trusted stable hand of the King and Queen, was his father. No one could handle a horse better than him. And he had taught his son well. There were stories, mainly whispered among the servants, that Stefan had a special magic that made him communicate well with animals.

Nikki didn't believe that. You just had to know them, and look them straight in the eye, and they could understand you. And animals were always easy to read. All you had to do was figure out what had happened, and then you would know the animal's reaction.

But there was no time to consider any of this. At last, he was only three feet above the ground. The eight year old boy jumped the rest of the way to the ground, landing soundlessly.

Quickly, he ran to Cold Blood, gently stroking its well brushed nose. Cold Blood immediately responded and calmed, but he still twitched anxiously waiting for his master.

The evil men that Nikki had heard stopped moving on the field. They knew that the horse had quieted. But they could not see the almost invisible Nikki brushing the horse soundlessly. He could see them hesitate, not sure whether or not to approach. Lights flickered on in the palace, and the men began to worry.

"Go kill it anyway," the leader finally decided. He didn't want the horse to start up again as soon as he walked away. The one named Greyl walked forward carefully.

With a last word of encouragement in the horse's ear, Nikki slipped quietly under Cold Blood, now completely masked by darkness. He quietly drew he knife out of his belt. This would have to be aimed perfectly for his plan to succeed. The man had no bow, he noticed, making his chance of survival much better.

As Greyl neared he called back to his partner. "Do you really want me to kill the horse, Draqu?" (Draa-ck) Greyl asked. "He's bein' real quiet-like now."

"Just kill it!" was the hissed answer from the darkness. Nikki aimed his knife as best he could. His hand was shaking and he knew he was off target before he even threw. But throw he did.

There was a muttered hiss of pain, very close to him, and a figure seemed to stop—writhing suddenly his right arm dangling helplessly at his side. The sword he had been holding dropped to the ground, and Draqu called out in confusion.

"What in the world is going on?" he asked, though at that moment, he saw the bloody gash left by Nikki's knife in Greyl's shoulder. Draqu's look turned to anger, and he stared futilely at the black stable searching for the attacker.

Just then, Cold Blood reared, catching Nikki's skull sharply with his front hooves. There was pain in the horse's scream that Nikki was sure could be heard from miles around. There, embedded in the horse's side, was the very knife he had just thrown.

Grabbing the knife with strength that he had left, Nikki jumped up, just in time to meet the first attacker. He feinted forward with the blade, quickly switching to a side cut that landed directly on Greyl's rib cage. Greyl winced in pain, but he kept on with the attack.

He blocked a few more lightning swings of Nikki's, only enduring minor cuts, but he could not see nearly as well as Nikki. Finally, Nikki swung up in an arc above Greyl's head, changing at the last minute to cut down, reaching his heart.

The man collapsed in front of him, and Nikki felt an overwhelming sickness, staring at the man he had just killed. Draqu looked bewildered and decided it was better to leave the horse be than to face the dark faced boy with the impossibly fast blade.

With that decision, he threw the unconscious Karyl over his mount and galloped away. Only now did Nikki truly become aware of the pain in his head. He was bleeding, but it was not a severe cut. The horse had checked at the last minute, inflicting much less damage than he could have.

As he sank to the ground, Nikki realized that the horse was losing blood, too. Cold Blood knelt down beside him, nursing his injured side. Nikki reached out to touch the wound, and suddenly, a white light flared from his hand, wrapping around the deep gash on the horse's side.

When the spots cleared from his eyes, Nikki could not believe what he saw. Where there had once been a bleeding cut, there was only perfectly smooth, unharmed skin on the horse's side.

"Horse magic," Nikki whispered incredulously, though there was no one around to hear. "I have horse magic. So the rumors are true. It's in my blood."

Once the awe faded away, Nikki decided that there was only one this to do. He quickly saddled Cold Blood, and mounted flawlessly, just another skill that he had learned from being a stable hand. He had a lot to think about, but right now, Karyl needed to be rescued.

"Ride, Cold Blood, ride," he called urgently to the horse, firmly underneath him. "Ride like you never have before. I'm pretty sure we're in for a very long trip."

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	8. 8 Morin

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Morin

Morin's father was out there—somewhere. But that was all he knew. No name, no stories. Morin had been little when he left, so he didn't remember much of his father. Strong and tall, and he seemed to just appear sometimes. Out of thin air.

He had asked the woman who raised him, Jenisse, about his father many times. But she either knew very little, or refused to talk about him. She was a dress maker with her own special brand of magic. Usually, you couldn't see the magic, but every stitch she ever made was perfect. And, when she taught the little children in the camp, she would fix their stitches, a faint pink glow forming around her hand.

Morin had been raised in the desert, with one of the Bahzir tribes. The Thunder Wings, they had been called. He had learned their ways and customs, but he had never been one of them. That's why he had left, when he came of age. He was sick of being around people who he didn't belong to.

He wandered for many years finding things that amused him, but nothing could keep him in one place. He was restless, like he didn't belong anywhere. Of course, it didn't help that he didn't know who he belonged to.

And then he had remembered the letter. Alanna, it had said. He needed to help Alanna. He should be able to find her at the place. She was King's Champion now; his father had mentioned that a couple times, obviously very proud. He had always wondered if he was Alanna's brother. They had looked so very much alike, from what he could remember.

The letter had seemed like a mysterious adventure to Morin when he had first read it. He was extremely young when he got it, but he read it again, many years later. How was he supposed to know when she needed help anyway? But it gave him something to do, so he had gone to the palace to find her.

It was on his way there, that he had found his answer. By accident, he had gotten very close to an enemy camp. They wanted to kill the king, but it was the Lioness that they were truly after. They counted her as a bigger threat to them than anyone else, although they would capture as many of the King's closest advisors as possible.

With the news, he had raced as fast as he could to the palace, where he was told to go to Pirate's swoop. Morin couldn't help but think of the letters in his pocket. The one to him and the unopened one to Alanna. So many times in his life, Morin had wanted to tear open the letter and read it, but the thought of his father's disappointment, even now, kept him from doing just that.

Once he had made it safely to Pirate's Swoop, he quickly found the Baron, and his lady wife. The rest of the night had been a blur for Morin. He had told them the entire story—and given the letter to Alanna. E then knew that it had the answers to all his questions hidden inside it. From the moment Alanna had swept out of the room crying, he knew he was closer than ever to fining his father.

He had crept quietly up to her room then, hoping to find her there. When she wasn't there, he became worried, but she soon came in.

"Who is he?" Morin had asked her. "Who is my father?"

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	9. 9 George

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

George

George decided that it was time to go see Alanna. She had been in her room quite a long time, and he was getting worried. The boy, Morin, had wandered off a while ago, and George wasn't sure that he wanted him pestering Alanna when she was like this.

As her neared their bedroom, George heard his wife's soft voice.

"I—I don't know how to tell you this," she was saying. George knew then that he was too late. The boy was going to drive him crazy; George already knew that.

Alanna continued. "Your father was a—a great and noble man. He—he cared about everyone. No person was too small to be saved." She was crying now, and George didn't care for it much. He knocked lightly on the door and entered.

He saw Alanna immediately, sitting by the warming fire, staring into space, remembering something long ago. Morin was sitting on the bed, obviously waiting for the rest of the story.

"Morin," George said softly and fiercely. "I think it's time to let Alanna rest." There was definitely a threat in his voice now, and Morin could sense it. He decided that the information was not worth the fight.

"Excuse me, I did not mean to tire her," he said politely, meaning to bow out of the room. Alanna's soft voice stopped him.

"No," she was saying firmly. "George, he needs to know. He has lived for twenty six years, never knowing who he was." George was about to argue that it could wait until morning, but he could see the determination in her eyes.

Just as George was about to give up, Alanna walked over to him, and she looked him straight in the eyes. "Read this," she said, pressing the letter into his hands. "Things will make more sense."

George had only to glance at the first two words, and he knew who had written it. Sudden anger built up inside of him, which he was interested to realize. It faded just as quickly, though, and he knew immediately that had never really meant hatred. Hurt was more the word.

Morin made a quick and noble decision then, which George had not expected. "It's ok," he said suddenly to Alanna. "Like you said, I've waited twenty six years now; what's one more day? Honestly, there must be a reason that he never told me. Maybe it was to keep me safe. Maybe it was just to give me a chance at a different life. Though I am anxious, I wish to wait. If it causes this much strife, it can only be better to wait." With that, he left the room, descending the stairs once again to the study.

"Is it true?" George asked Alanna quietly. He was still having trouble comprehending the words on the page.

"Yes," said Alanna, just as quietly. "I know in my heart that it is. But never mind that for now. Who was at the door?"

Handing the letter back, George explained what he had just been told. Alanna gasped when she found out that Raoul was missing, and she had tears in her eyes again when he finished the story.

George comforted her as best he could, and her tears eventually dried. George was very glad of this, as he hated to see Alanna upset. "I need to go talk to Morin. He was very kind, and I should apologize for my—threatening nature tonight."

Alanna laughed softly. "That would be good," she agreed. "I understand it, but I think you frightened him a bit."

"Fear can be a good thing," George laughed on his way out of the room. "And it's usually a good thing to have around the Rouge King."

"Ex-king," Alanna corrected him. "You're not one of them anymore. And I wasn't scared of you—even then."

"You were—at first," George reminded her. "That silly body guard used to think I was just trouble. He thought that I could only be a bad influence on you!" he laughed, closing the door behind him.

"He ended up being more right than either of us could have dreamed!" Alanna yelled through the closed door.

George smirked. In a way, she was right. He had brought her into bars, gotten her into knife fights, given her her first drink, and even gotten her to lie when necessary. But that wasn't what she was talking about. When they first became partners, he had been King of the Rouge, the thieving underbelly of Corus and every large city in Tortall.

Of course, everything had changed now. He was a respected baron of the realm, and he looked after all of Pirate's Swoop. Now, he had other problems to fix. He could come on strongly many times, scaring the people he talked to without ever meaning harm. He had a growing feeling that he had done just this to Morin.

As he walked into the study, George found Morin sitting quietly by the fire. The anxious boy immediately jumped up, ready to apologize. He didn't want to see the dreaded knife ever again. But George held up a hand of peace.

"I am sorry that I scare you," he said, sitting down and motioning for Morin to do the same. Morin sat down cautiously, waiting for the attack. He still had yet to trust George.

"Alanna is right," George continued, choosing to explain his past later. "You should know who your father is. He is everything that she said he was: strong, kind, and faithful. You were right as well. He did not tell you who he was because he was trying to protect you. He was in constant danger, and he was dangerous, too, especially when he wrote that note. He didn't want to see you brought into the horror that his life brought. This is also why he sent you here. He knew she would protect you, but you could also help her. I know I must be making things more confusing, but, until the danger passes now, it wouldn't be a good idea to tell you. Just understand, your father loved you more than anything. More than life, more than even Alanna. Which is difficult if you had known anything of who they were. I feel that there are some things you must know, however. First is that your father was powerful. He could command things, and they would happen. Sometimes this worked to his advantage, and sometimes it didn't. Which brings me to the second thing you must know. Your father is dead. A few days after he wrote the letter, he was killed by an evil sorcerer in a surprise attack. He never made it to the desert, or any of the places that he had meant to go. The armies of the sorcerer made sure that Alanna did not have time to go and save him. She was meant to die as well that day, but she survived, thankfully. I'm not sure what I would have done without her." George looked thoughtfully at Morin. Morin hadn't said a word during his explanation, and he was now looking at George with wide eyes. He had never known that George could be thoughtful, or understanding. He didn't realize that George was capable of such emotions, especially not love.

He was still taking in the last part of George's speech when it truly sunk in. dead? His father, who he had dreamed he would one day meet, was gone. There would be no way to ever discuss things with him. To find out what had truly happened. There was more to the story. Morin knew that much, but it may be months, years before he would ever find out.

Morin was about to ask why he was never told that his father died, but then he remembered that no one had known who he belonged to. No matter who had died at the palace that day, it couldn't have mattered to him. Of something else, he was sure as well. His father was no ordinary soldier. He was stronger than most, almost magical. Maybe he had been a mage. And he had loved Alanna.

"My father," Morin finally said. "You say he loved Alanna, and they were so very much alike. They seem to have the same qualities, and they even looked alike. Maybe, they were related. Cousins, that later became friends."

George had to laugh at how close to the truth Morin was. "You are very close. I hope it is not upsetting that you do not know more of him. I met him a few times, and I traveled with Alanna once to see him, but I never really knew him well, either."

"No," said Morin. "I know more than I used to. And I know enough to be proud that I am his son."

"Be very proud," George agreed. "Your father was a great man. But enough talk for now. If you wish to accompany us to the palace tomorrow, we must be up very early. I will show you to the guest room so that we may all get some sleep."

George quietly led Morin you to his room, though he knew that Alanna would not yet be asleep.

"Thank you," Morin said almost shyly. "For everything."

"You're welcome," George smiled. "Good night."

"Good night," Morin replied. George closed the door and walked up stairs. It had been a long night, and he would have to be up early the next morning. With the many thoughts racing around in his head, George had trouble falling asleep. Finally, hours before dawn broke over the horizon, George fell into a restless sleep, anxious for the day ahead.

PLEASE R&R!! I need to know if you like it!!


	10. 10 Karyl

A/N: Morin is twenty six. I went back and changed it. thanks to the advice from fnx, i rechecked my timeline and had Alanna's age wrong. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Karyl

Karyl still couldn't see anything. He had been traveling for three days, or at least three long breaks to sleep. His blindfold had not been taken off, and he doubted that it would be any time soon. It was hard for him, not knowing where he was or who he was with.

It was also very difficult to continue thinking about Cold Blood. He had no way of knowing whether his beloved horse was alive or dead, and this pained him more than anything. He also knew that he had failed. He had delivered his message to Thayet, but he could not return to Alanna. He had eaten and gotten drunk, making him vulnerable. And now she would feel it her responsibility to come find him. But her king was dying. She would save him first, right?

Karyl wasn't sure. Queen Thayet had said that the king's illness was just a typical fever. If Alanna thought the same thing, would she leave him in the care of Healers and come after Karyl. He hoped not, but he could never tell with his Lady.

The horse had stopped again; he had gotten his own in the nearest town. Karyl couldn't tell which town considering he didn't know in which direction they were traveling. Karyl was pulled off his horse and set on the ground. It must have been the end of the fourth day on the road.

"You sleep here tonight," Draqu grumbled. Karyl had a feeling that he was becoming more of a burden than useful. It had been the second day out that Draqu found out that Karyl was just a servant in a lady's house. Of course, Karyl had known enough to say nothing about the letter, and, because of Morin's warning, nothing about Alanna herself.

It was strange; he was trapped and captured, but Karyl felt that he could come to no harm. That was probably because of the way Alanna and George had always treated him. They took care of all of their servants and never brought them to any harm.

If anything was making Karyl crazy, it was the darkness. He wanted only to see light, the sun, the stars—anything. Constant darkness was toying with his mind, creating images of places he was being taken, animals that would attack in the night, torture that he would endure once they reached their destination. The constant strain on his mind was making his head pound furiously; Karyl was sure that he would have been dizzy if he could have seen anything at all.

There were sounds, constant sounds and noise that seemed to go on endlessly. Sounds that would have been harmless in the light were now unbearable, driving Karyl half mad. Sight had always been what he relied on most. Good thieves could be silent if they wished, but they could not become altogether invisible.

That was how he had become the most trusted servant of Lady Alanna. He had captured three intruders, one of which was actually a hired assassin. His keen sight had gotten him a good home and deep respect.

Now that he was without it, Karyl felt lost and defenseless. There was only one bright spot in the past four days of travel. And that was his horse. It was strong and fast, able to endure a canter for miles. Shorter than a war horse, it was stout and muscular; the muscles bunching in a steady motion as it ran, easily keeping pace with Draqu's horse. Karyl could feel a bond growing between himself and the horse. Karyl was gentle with Destron, as he had named it. He cared for it, male he believed as well as he was able to while blind. Destron also kept him company while he slept, comforting him in a way that only horses knew.

Draqu never noticed this connection, from what Karyl could tell. He still hadn't figured out if Draqu and Greyl were bandits who needed ransom money, or if they were part of a growing enemy, hiding beyond the outskirts of Tortall. Either way, Karyl knew it could mean nothing good. Bandits and raiders from outside of the country had never set foot inside the palace. It was a dark day that even the palace courtyards weren't safe from unknown enemies.

Now that Karyl thought about it, he had seen no guards that night. How had Draqu gotten through? Were there even guards posted? The simple explanation would have been that Karyl was drunk, and he had never seen what was going on around him. But that didn't make sense. Karyl knew that he hadn't had that much sweet wine; he still would have seen guards on the wall. And more certainly the guards on the ground.

One night, sick of the silence and blindness, Karyl decided to question his mysterious captor. "Where are we going?" he had asked first, knowing that this would be the best information that he could acquire.

It took Draqu a second to answer. He had never heard the man talk, except when he had screamed for the horse's safety. All he had heard from Karyl other than that was a muttered "I'm sorry My Lady" while he slept at night. Finally, Draqu answered.

"I meant to bring you to my leader," he started slowly. "I used to be part of an army that was planning war against Tortall. Greyl and I were the most trusted captors and assassins in our legion. That's why I can't go back now. Greyl's dead, and I've captured some servant from a Corus household. That does us no good. It's the Lady Alanna that everyone wants. She has defeated so many of our troops on different occasions, that or king thought that getting rid of her was the best idea for victory."

Karyl tensed visibly at the thought that it was his mistress Draqu was out to kill. But Draqu continued unknowingly. The silence must have been ebbing at him for the past few days, as well. And he had his partner's death on his shoulders.

"They would throw me in a dungeon if I went back with nothing to show for my long absence but a dead partner and a stable servant. Even if I was accepted back, it's the shame that would drive me mad. Everyone has his pride, and no one likes to be humiliated. Stop asking questions," Draqu's mood changed suddenly. "It's not your place. You're the prisoner here. Go to sleep."

There was no more conversation after that, but Karyl had a deep sense of satisfaction. He had gotten many of the answers he had needed, and there were the beginnings of a truce between the two men. Excessive amounts of time, loneliness, and confusion had worn on them both, and that had undiscernibly drawn them together. They wouldn't be friends, and they would never be allies, but there was a possibility that they would not always loathe each other. In fact, Karyl wasn't sure that he didn't already have some respect for the man sitting beside him.

The only thing that pained him now was the loss of Cold Blood. The horse had not been quiet just out of instinct. And Karyl didn't think that he had been the one to kill Greyl. There was someone else who knew what had happened, and maybe they would come to rescue him. If he could keep Draqu talking, he might even get his blindfold removed.

All of this sent hope shivering through Karyl's body. There was a chance that his world could change. He might even be able to see Lady Alanna and Baron George in the future, to apologize for his actions. But he knew they would accept no apologies; they would pity him and be forgiving, as they always were.

This thought made Karyl more happy than he had been since the moment he had become a prisoner. With this last thought, Karyl drifted off into an easy sleep, dreaming of reuniting with George, Alanna, and especially, Cold Blood.

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	11. 11 Thayet

A/N: sorry this took so long! PLEASE READ AND RESPOND!! I need more reviews so that i can know if this is any good! Thanks! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Thayet

Thayet couldn't stay still. Alanna was finally coming today, and Jonathon was going to get well soon. That's what she kept telling herself. Her thoughts were slowly wandering, however. What if Alanna could do nothing—if she was just as helpless as everyone else? Also, Thayet had sent for Karyl over twenty minutes ago, and he had not returned. That was very unlike him, she knew. He was Alanna's most faithful and dedicated servant.

Finally, the servant returned, but his face was downcast. "Your Majesty, we checked everywhere for the servant, Karyl, but he is nowhere to be found. Also, we checked the stables, and his horse, Cold Blood, is gone as well."

Thayet was confused. Karyl had run away? That didn't make sense; he wouldn't have done that. She needed more of an explanation. "What are you suggesting, Gadeer? If your suggestion is that he has run away with Alanna's prize horse, you are mistaken."

"No, no, Your Majesty," Gadeer answered quickly. "There was blood on the ground of the stables where Cold Blood had been. Nikki, Stefan's son is gone as well and there were two tracks of prints leading through the castle grounds. We think that there may have been some unwanted guests on the grounds last night."

Word must have been spreading around the kingdom by now. The King ill, the Lioness called out on a mission that turned out as a distraction, and now servants and horses disappearing from the palace itself.

"Go," she told Gadeer. "Thank you for the information. Return to me immediately if you find out any information. And alert me when Alanna and George arrive. I'll need them in here immediately."

Gadeer bowed out politely and left Thayet to organize her thoughts. She had to take action. Jon was sick, and she had done nothing but take care of him. She laughed at the memory of the poor servant who had suggested that she leave the sick room. She would have to free him from stable mucking soon. But what could she do on her own? There was only one person to talk to. Alanna was on her way; she would know what to do.

"Gadeer," Thayet called. Immediately, the servant rushed into the room and bowed. "I want ten soldiers to go out immediately to scout of Alanna. Five will return to me as soon as she is seen, and five will stay as her escort. I do not want any harm coming to her especially while she is on the palace grounds."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Gadeer answered as he left the room. Alanna should be here by the night, which gave Thayet a few hours to herself. She knelt by Jon's bed. He hadn't moved or changed all day, and she was worried. She draped a wet cloth over his forehead and kissed his cheek. "Get well," Thayet told him. "For me, for Alanna, for Tortall—get well."

With that, Thayet left the room, headed for her bedchambers to try to sleep for the few hours before Alanna arrived. She hadn't been to her own rooms in eight days, too busy taking care of Jonathon. As soon as she got to her rooms, Thayet fell into a restless sleep.

_Jonathon's rooms were stifling hot so that she could barely breathe. Jonathon was sweating yet his skin was blue and cold. The fever would not subside, and Jonathon drew closer and closer to the Black God's realm. Servants passed in and out of the room, but Thayet barely heard them. She didn't care what they said or did. Nothing mattered now that Jon was dying. Thayet knew that he was needed to run the kingdom, and, more than that, he was her love. She could not live without him. All of a sudden, the room became too hot for her to breathe. Thayet stood up and went to the door of the room. "Keep watch over him. I'll be right back; I just need to breathe for a few minutes." The servant nodded and bowed as she left the room._

_Once she was outside, Thayet's head started to clear. She could breathe easier now, and she could think straight. Jonathon had to get well. The Healer had done all that he could, and Jon would survive. Just then a servant came to her, apologizing for interrupting her. He said that the message was urgent._

"_What is it?" Thayet snapped, frustrated by her long day in the sick room. _

"_The king, Your Majesty," the servant said hesitantly. "He's not breathing, and the Healer says his heart stopped. I'm sorry your majesty. The king is dead."_

She was screaming; Thayet knew that much. She opened her eyes wide, and she looked about her bedchamber, bright from the afternoon sun. A young maid was in her doorway. "Your Majesty," the maid said timidly. "I heard you screaming. Is everything all right?"

"Yes, yes," replied Thayet wearily. "Just a bad dream."

"I'm sorry Your Majesty. Please tell me if there is anything you require." The maid was about to leave when she remembered something. "Your Majesty," she continued. Thayet wondered how many times the girl would say that before the sun had set. "Alanna is here." The girl left quietly, shutting the door behind her.

Thayet quickly moved from her bed. She had been asleep longer than she had thought. Or Alanna had come faster than she thought—which only could mean that something was wrong. With that thought Thayet hurriedly rushed from her room to go see Alanna.

Alanna and George were waiting in the throne room along with a younger man whom Thayet did not recognize. They all looked weary and tired from a hard and fast ride. There was something in Alanna's eyes—anger maybe or frustration—that made the entire scene fierce and intimidating.

Alanna stepped forward with a small bow. "Thayet," she said clearly, indicating that she was not going to waste time on formality. "We need to talk—the four of us. Things are wrong here—more so than we have ever faced. They must be fixed, or we will all perish."


	12. 12 Nikki

A/N: sorry this took so long! PLEASE READ AND RESPOND!! I need more reviews so that i can know if this is any good! Thanks! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I DO NOT own these characters. The story, places, and characters are Tamora Pierce's. Some minor character are my own, but nothing else.

Nikki

Nikki had ridden Cold Blood hard for two days now. The tracks of the kidnapper were easy to track; he didn't bother to cover them up thinking that no one would be following. Draqu had been right in a way, Nikki knew. No one from the castle would come now. None but the best trackers could find a trail that old. And the best trackers could not be wasted on finding a servant. Thayet was kind and fair, but she knew enough of the state of the kingdom to know that there were more important things to do.

Nikki decided to rest; both he and Cold Blood were exhausted. After he had healed the horse, Nikki had felt more tired than he ever had in his life. That's when he remembered his father talking about magic. He had said that if you used it too much, you would tire yourself. He had even mentioned death. There was only one problem. Nikki had never learned how to use the Gift because he had never had it. Now, he could easily hurt himself without knowing what had happened. But that didn't matter right now. All he knew was that he had to find the missing servant. There had to be a reason for the kidnap.

Nearby, Nikki found the same tracks that he had bee following. They were about a half a day old; he would catch up soon. Along the way, Draqu had apparently gotten a second horse for the captured servant. This fortunately slowed them even more because there were extra provisions to carry.

Nikki did not realize that these thoughts came naturally to only he and his father, because they had been with him all of his life. He had never known a day when he couldn't tell how a horse felt, if it was sick, or even if it was unhappy. Now, this aided him more than anything in pursuing Draqu.

Suddenly, Cold Blood perked up anxiously. Trotting around neighing softly, the horse stared in the direction of the nearby forest. Nikki silently went to the horse, soothingly brushing his nose. When Cold Blood calmed slightly, Nikki pressed his face into the horse's soft mane.

There was something wrong; no doubt about that. But it went deeper than a horse's usual nerves. It was a sense of panic, warning, and danger. Pulling away from the horse, Nikki silently packed all of his bags and strapped them back onto Cold Blood. He had not lit a fire, knowing that there were things more dangerous than raiders in these woods. Speaking comfortingly to Cold Blood, Nikki climbed onto his back and urged him into a walk. Immediately, an arrow flew close to Nikki's side.

"Run," Nikki told Cold Blood. The horse was used to this command. He had only felt the desperation in Nikki's voice once before, but it was understood nonetheless. Easily springing into a gallop, Cold Blood leapt in the direction Nikki had angled him.

Nikki knew that the horse could keep this pace for hours if he was asked, but Nikki was tired of running himself. "Cold blood," he whispered. "How would you like to fight today?" The horse gave a small neigh that could only be taken as agreement. Without warning to the pursuers, Nikki pulled up on the reins, spinning Cold Blood around like lightening, landing on all fours as three hill men tried desperately to stop their horses.

"Who are you?" Nikki shouted. "What do you want? I'm just a servant! Can't you see that? What is the purpose of this?"

The hill men looked at each other, startled. They had no idea that the little boy could have such a strong voice. Their leader stepped his horse out into the middle of the circle. "What do you think we want, little one?" the leader asked. "We only want your horse and your money. If you grant us that, we will spare your life. After questioning, of course."

"I will fight and die before you hear anything from me!" Nikki shouted, though all were within a short range of him. Cold Blood moved anxiously, wanting to fight, not discuss. Nikki rubbed his neck, telling the horse silently to wait. "I warn you to expect a fight from my horse as well, gentlemen. He obeys only those he wishes to.

"Then we will charge to kill," the leader proclaimed. "Prepare to die." Nikki braced himself upright on Cold Blood, fingering the small throwing knife he carried with him. This would take down the leader, thrown correctly. Would that be enough to scare of the other two? Nikki highly doubted it. Nikki barely heard the charge cry from the hill men as he concentrated on his aim.

The hill men drew within six yards of Cold Blood. Nikki easily lifted the knife and threw it, as he had been trained to do what felt so long ago now. Aimed correctly, the knife flew straight to the leader, piercing his shoulder perilously close to the heart and knocking him off his horse. Cold Blood turned at that exact moment, rearing to kick another charging raider off of his mount. The third hill man watched the fates of his two companions and decided to flee. The leader still lay on the ground alive.

"Your queen will die," he called hoarsely. "Our leader will make sure of that. And you will die with her for your treachery. Tortall and its precious Alanna will perish." With that, the hill man closed his eyes and slept.

Nikki stroked Cold Blood, nervous to move or run. Finally, the horse nudged him. Nikki slid from the horse's back and gathered the mounts of the two fallen riders. They were good, strong horses, built for long rides. It would be useful to have them, once he found Draqu. Nikki remounted Cold Blood. "Come on, boy," he said. "It is time to finish this. Tortall may need this information, as trivial as it may be. But we have a duty to do first."

Cold blood rode off into the dark forest—boy and horse riding as one silently through the dampness. The two war horses trailed, conserving their energy. Nikki's stance told them that their journey was far from over.

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